


‘cause i am a fire escape, my spine is made of iron, my heart pumps out old red paint

by birdycurtains



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Depressed Peter Parker, Depression, Mentioned Ben Parker, Mentioned May Parker - Freeform, Peter Parker Has Issues, Peter Parker Has Panic Attacks, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker has PTSD, Peter Parker is a Mess, Poor Peter Parker, Suicidal Peter Parker, Suicidal Thoughts, mentioned Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:21:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24210520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdycurtains/pseuds/birdycurtains
Summary: Peter is experiencing a loss of identity since Mr. Stark took away the suit, and he's having trouble coping with his new reality.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 147





	‘cause i am a fire escape, my spine is made of iron, my heart pumps out old red paint

**Author's Note:**

> \- Please take caution that this may have triggering content! Mind the tags :)

The weight on his chest at night is heavy. Heavier than the weight on his shoulders. His heart clenches, and he chokes back a sob as he presses his hand against his mouth.

It’s enough to muffle the noise, but his eyes still fill with tears. Down, down, down they drip from his cheeks, and soak into his pillow and t-shirt.

His eyes ache, and every part of his body wants to shut down and melt into his bed, wait for his body to rot, and flowers to grow from his bones. 

There’s a steady stream of ringing in his ears, all Peter wants to do is scream, yell until his throat is raw.

But he knows he can’t, because May is down the hall, sleeping peacefully.  
She’s been doing well for so long, and she doesn’t need Peter’s meltdowns ruining her improvement. He just knows it. She’s gotten better each day.

But all of Peter’s have been tainted with the memory of holding Ben’s dying body, feeling his last breath rattling in his arms. Seeing the blood seep into his clothing, stick underneath his fingernails.

Sometimes he can still feel it, on his hands, and he’ll stand over the bathroom sink at Midtown, just scrubbing, never really feeling clean.

He doesn’t feel like he’s living anymore, just barely participating in his reality, and watching everybody move on.

Peter’s not anyone anymore. He’s just Peter Parker. He blends into walls, disappears in crowds. Fades into the background of his own life. He’s no one special, and he isn’t helping anyone anymore, he can’t.

Because Mr. Stark came down and took part in him. Stripped him of his only protection against himself. 

He can’t spend his nights out on the streets, instead, he spends them in his sheets, dealing with the abundance of thoughts straining against his skull. He hasn’t felt this empty since Ben passed.

But even then Peter was still someone, Peter was still Spiderman. 

But now who is he?

He feels naked and overexposed, with no real sense of identity. He was Spiderman. He had helped Tony Stark. But in the end what had he really done, besides help tear the Avengers apart?

He looks out to the skyline from his window, his vision bleary from the tears crowding his waterline. Peter feels the breeze brush over his face, he drags a hand across it, attempting to wipe away his crying.

He inches a shaky hand forward, gently lifting the window from the sill, only emitting a slight creak, but not loud enough for May to hear. 

His mind drifts somewhere else when he climbs the fire escape. Like he’s just watching himself, having no say in his body’s actions.

As he stands on the ledge of his building, he feels an overwhelming sense of peace wash over him. The thoughts in his head have died down, an almost Pavlovian response to being on top of buildings, and feeling the wind whistle and blow around his body.

He looks down on the smaller buildings in the surrounding areas, the streets are almost barren of life, now and then he’ll see a stray figure or a couple of cars meander down the empty streets.

Peter always swings up when he drops, or someone else is there to catch him. Mr. Stark doesn’t care anymore, Peter is no one to him, he failed, and Tony Stark isn’t there to save him when he falls anymore.

He’s been accustomed to the feeling of soaring through the air, almost flying, never falling.

Peter wonders what it’s like to fall. To watch the world wash away, as he drops.

Never coming back up.


End file.
